


Fingers Goin' Up My Sleeve

by shugamonie



Series: 4th Time Around [2]
Category: Bob Dylan (Musician), Jimi Hendrix Experience, Johnny Cash (Musician)
Genre: 1960s, 1960s Music, Angst, Drug Use, Jealousy, Love Affair, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 11:06:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15772857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shugamonie/pseuds/shugamonie
Summary: Sequel to '4th Time Around'When Johnny and Bob finally meet again it’s in the spring of the next year, 1966, and Johnny is struck at just how much Bob’s appearance has changed. He’s almost like a completely different man.





	Fingers Goin' Up My Sleeve

-

 

When Johnny and Bob finally meet again it’s in the spring of the next year, 1966, and Johnny is struck at just how much Bob’s appearance has changed. He’s almost like a completely different man. 

They meet by chance in passing in New York City, backstage at a venue that they both just so happened to be playing the same weekend. Johnny hardly recognizes his young friend at first. 

Bob is noticeably thinner; his expensive new suit is wearing _him_. If he had been 120lbs last time, he’s 110 or possibly even a frightening 105 now. His cheekbones protrude, and his pale skin makes him look almost sickly.

His hair -that Johnny thought was big _before-_ is two times as big now. He can already  
picture it brushing Bob’s boney shoulders when wet after a shower. Also, the normally sharp, clear sky-blue eyes seem foggy and a bit unfocused.

It worries Johnny deeply.

What also catches Johnny off guard is how Bob calls his name and approaches so excitedly, like they hadn’t parted with such finality just last year. Bob struggles to wrap a friendly arm around Johnny’s shoulders as he can barely reach with their significant height difference.

“Well if it isn’t the Cash-man himself. Fancy meeting you here, did you miss me?” Bob greets playfully as he walks Johnny down the hall of dressing rooms.

The country singer is highly aware of Bob’s circle of people who follow behind them, talking amongst each other, and he knows he should keep the conversation light. Maybe Bob is too high, drunk, whatever—to remember that they’re supposed to loathe each other, but Johnny sure isn’t. His heart thumps loudly while remembering the harsh words exchanged when they’d parted last year. Bob had been so hurt, and Johnny just didn’t have the right words to say to him at the time. 

“Sure I did, Bob.” Johnny smiles warmly despite his anxiety, “Did you get to see any of my show?” He wonders, wrapping an arm around Bob’s shoulders. Bob’s own arm slips down to Johnny’s waist as he begins to feel a strain from having it around Johnny’s too-high-up shoulders.

“No, I uh...didn’t see any of the show.” Bob says, remorseful, sounding almost intoxicated. 

Yeah, he’s definitely high, or been drinking that cheap wine again. “I’m sorry, Johnny. I just got here like...30 minutes ago. I’m actually late.” He rambles, “Didn’t even know we were both playing here, to be honest. But you’re more than welcome to stay for my show, ‘less you got somewhere to be.”

“Not really. I planned on staying for your show actually. I’ve never seen you play with the band before.” Johnny can feel an unease with how easily they’re slipping right back into the same routine as always when they’re reunited. Forgetting their duties in favor of finding time to be alone together.

Maybe Johnny can just watch the show, chat with Bob a little while after, and then leave before anything can happen between them. Good enough plan, but knowing how they get when they’re together, it’ll be easier said than done. They’ll end up in bed without giving thought to anything else, and Johnny will redress wondering how the hell it’d happened _again._

Bob grins brightly at Johnny’s words, “Oh it’s going to be something, Johnny, really something. Just don’t _boo_ us.” He pats Johnny’s side before detaching from the taller man as he has to get to his dressing room soon, “So, do you want us to get a spot for you in the crowd or would you rather watch from the stage?”

Johnny smiles at Bob’s consideration, though clearly the poet is too hopped up on drugs to care about where they really stand together since their last encounter. Johnny isn’t falling for it quite yet; the younger man has always been a good actor.

“I’ll be fine watching from backstage, Bob.” He gives Bob’s shoulder a friendly enough squeeze.

“Okay, cool. Well,” He turns to face Johnny properly, though Johnny senses it had just been a reason for him to move from Johnny’s touch, “I need to go get ready for the show now, but there’s going to be a little get together afterword, in celebration of the ending of our American tour.” Bob searches Johnny’s eyes expectantly and Johnny reluctantly meets the tired blue eyes, unsure about the invitation as he hums in thought.

Well, there goes his plan to flee directly after the show. Why is it so hard to say no to this guy?

“Okay, where you gonna be having this thing?”

Bob is practically beaming with excitement. “My hotel room, it’s more exclusive that way, ya dig?”

“Which hotel?”

“The Chelsea.”

“Alright, Bob. So, should I just head on over there after the show?”

“Sure, whatever you want to do, man.” Bob says, then is being told by his road manager that he needs to prepare to take the stage in 10 minutes. “Alright, Fred,” Bob grumbles, seeming a little miffed at the interruption to his conversation, but he looks back to Johnny with a satisfied grin, “Come on along, John.” Bob motions a thumb to his dressing room with a soft smile and Johnny tries to hold back a smirk at the seemingly innocent invitation.

“Well I can’t just disappear, Bob, I gotta let people know where I’m going to.” He says politely as he looks around, “In fact it seems they’re all probably out in the car waiting on me.”

Bob clicks his tongue impatiently and grabs Johnny’s wrist, “They’ll find you, man, we’ll leave the door open.” He whispers.

Johnny isn’t too worried about it in all honesty, so he lets Bob lead him to the dressing room that the country singer soon realizes is full of what must be Bob’s band. Some are strumming on unplugged instruments together, while others are passing around a joint.

“Holy shit.” Rick Danko, Bob’s bass player exclaims at the famous country singer’s unexpected arrival. Immediately, the men all stop what they’re doing to greet Johnny who takes their hands in warm shakes one by one.

“We’re all huge fans of your music, we wish we could have been here in time for the performance.” Robbie Robertson says enthusiastically.

“It’s fine boys, I’m just happy to see you take the stage with Bob.” He says genuinely, glancing at Bob who’s sat on the couch, watching them all silently while he smokes a cigarette.

Their drummer, Mickey Jones, pulls out his pack and offers one to Johnny. “Thank you,” He nods at Mickey appreciatively, letting the drummer light the cig for him before he turns his attention down to Bob, who’s joggling his foot like he always does when he’s antsy.

Johnny meets his gaze, stunned to find those intense blue eyes scrutinizing him. A chill goes down the country singers back as he finally understands; Bob’s feelings from last time have not changed at all. He’s _furious_. He _isn’t_ too high to have forgotten, not at all. Bob’s only been pretending, like in the hallway. He was only being friendly because there were others around, watching their interactions. Only this time Johnny notices that Neuwirth kid is nowhere to be found. And these new guys don’t know about certain... _things._

Bob’s light blue eyes are narrowed and unwavering as Johnny stares right back. They both take drags of their cigarettes at the same time but Johnny exhales first, “Does all that hair ever get in the way, Bobby?” He steps in a little bit closer toward where Bob’s sat on the couch, noticing how the poet is watching his every move, foot jiggling even faster as Johnny nears him.

“In the way of what, Johnny?" Bob scoots over a bit on the couch to make sure there’s enough space between them if Johnny decides to sit down. Johnny ends up sitting on the arm of the couch across from Bob, ankles crossed, eyes never leaving the younger.

“The new album is fantastic, Bob.” He offers, “Did you guys play on that one?” He turns his attention back to the rest of the band who had innocently been observing the pair’s quiet interaction.

“Rick and I did some work on it, but it was mostly a bunch of different guys who came in for certain songs.” Robbie answers him. “Maybe the next album will be a little more organized.” He teases Bob, but the singer hardly even notices.

Bob suddenly stands from the couch and Johnny’s attention is swiftly taken from the band as he watches with keen interest at the other walking toward a table in the corner of the room. There’s a small pile of pills there and Johnny sees Bob pop 2 or 3 with no water or anything.

He turns and meets Johnny’s eyes almost immediately after, like he’d expected the country singer to be watching him. Bob licks his lips and leans against the table with his arms crossed, “How’s June doing?”

To anyone else it’d sound like a casual invitation into conversation. To Johnny’s educated ears it’s like a slash from a sharp knife, swung by anger and envy.

Johnny’s eyes turn away from Bob’s piercing ones, unable to handle it. “June’s good, taking it easy in Memphis right now.”

Bob only nods and returns to his cigarette as his band members continue happily conversing with Johnny until it’s time for them to head out for the stage.

They all file out of the room and Johnny wishes them a good show. He’s the last one out, with Bob right in front of him. Just before they pass through the door frame, Johnny snatches Bob’s wrist and spins the other round to face him.

Bob doesn’t have time to utter a single syllable before Johnny’s ducking his head to press a very swift and hidden kiss to his slightly parted lips.

Bob says nothing, _does_ nothing in response to it, only turns on the heel of his boot and follows behind his band. Johnny watches him as he goes, trying to find any sign that Bob is bashful, or maybe even upset with the kiss, but Johnny finds no indication. The younger man is clearly trying to disguise the fact that anything had happened.  
-  
Johnny watches the show from the side of the stage with a few of the sound crew and some other folks that he doesn’t know. 

His own crew finds him 10 minutes into the show, saying they’d been looking all over for him. Johnny can only motion to Bob with his band on stage and remark, “You guys never told me he was playin’ here tonight.”

Once finding out that Johnny plans on staying for a while, his crew tell him that they’ll be at the hotel before leaving him be.

Bob sounds high as fuck during the show. Drawing out his notes longer than they are on the record. He’s so out of his mind on drugs, and Johnny can only stand to watch it for half of the show before he’s turning to head backstage to wait in the dressing room.

Sure, the band had been great, the boys are extremely talented in what they do. Johnny’s just disappointed by Bob’s physical and even mental state. It bothers Johnny to see someone that he cares deeply for disregarding their health so blatantly. Not that he’s really one to talk, with his track record.

He finds the dressing room they’d all been in earlier, relieved to find it empty. He lights a cigarette and thinks mostly about Bob, and all the possible ways the night could turn out. 

Johnny even contemplates the idea of fleeing before Bob and his band finish. There’s a nagging sensation in his gut about everything, the main cause being Bob’s drastic physical and mental state. 

Johnny doesn’t know why but he feels somehow responsible. He knows it’s ridiculous, and that Bob likely only turned to speed (and possibly other drugs) because of his hectic schedules as of late. Still, Johnny can’t help feeling guilty. Things definitely could have gone smoother in their last visit.

Somehow, even after scaring himself half to death over his worries, Johnny manages to stay in his seat and wait for Bob. It’s another 30 minutes until he hears the muffled roar of the crowd, likely signaling the end of the show. He stands then, leaving the dressing room just in time to see Bob and a group of others, including the band, being herded down the hallway in his direction.

Johnny’s eyes are for Bob and Bob only as he watches the singer slip his sunglasses on. Through the flurry of bodies, a hand emerges and snatches Johnny by the sleeve of his suit.

“Come on, Johnny, we’re heading to the hotel now.” It’s Bob who’d grabbed him, and Johnny, though quite caught off guard, manages to keep up with everyone, not exactly new to this himself.

There are two cars, a giant crowd of paparazzi and fans waiting for them when they exit. Bob exhales in relief when they’re inside the safe darkness of the car. Johnny is captivated by the crowd around them, who are still trying to snap photos of Bob from outside the vehicle.

As they drive off, Bob turns his attention to Johnny in the darkness of the car, “Didn’t like the show then, did you?” He’d noticed Johnny’s disappearance during the show and it’d left him feeling a bit insulted, as he’d really wanted the older man to watch.

“The show was fantastic, Bob,” Johnny tries to see Bob’s face in the dark, to meet his eyes. But only the occasional passing street light gives him a glimpse of the pissy expression of the other. “My people were looking for me is all.” He sees Bob look away with a bite of his bottom lip, and Johnny knows the other finds his explanation dishonest. “I told ‘em I’d be with you all night, so they left for the hotel.”

“’All night’, huh?” Bob’s eyes are still averted and it’s making Johnny a little uneasy.

Bob isn’t stupid, he knows Johnny didn’t enjoy the show. But at least he didn’t boo.

Johnny wishes there were some way he could explain his thoughts genuinely without insulting his friend. Knowing Bob, that’d be a tricky task and not exactly worth the resulting arguments.

No one speaks for the rest of the drive to the Chelsea Hotel, but Bob still tugs on Johnny’s sleeve to follow behind him as they exit the car.

As they enter the hotel room, Johnny is surprised to find it already packed with dozens of young people, drinking and dancing to the radio. It’s the type of scene he isn’t used to being a part of. But Bob and his band already seem right at home, approaching people they know and heading straight for the drinks.

“What can I get you to drink?” Bob asks Johnny who stands over him awkwardly, feeling wildly out of place amongst the much younger and exciting guests. 

The older man has no idea what to do with himself other than stick with the one person here that he knows.

“Surprise me, Bob.” Johnny can feel other people’s eyes on him, probably wanting to come talk to him or simply stunned to see him there.  
All Johnny wants to do is get Bob alone. 

Just to talk. Really. Honest. All he wants to do is...talk.

Johnny watches Bob pour him a shot of whiskey and thinks that it’s probably a bad idea, but he takes it anyway as it’s held out to him. Bob himself settles with a simple glass of wine.

It doesn’t take long for Bob to be stolen away from Johnny by some of his friends and band mates. Johnny hangs close, taking his shot and setting the empty glass aside.

“Jimi Hendrix is somewhere in here, I met him earlier.” Robbie Robertson says to everyone, and Bob raises an eyebrow over his glass of wine.

“Jimi-What-Now?” Bob asks cluelessly.

“The guitar player that’s coming up in the industry. Black guy. He’s damn good, says he’s a fan of yours too.”

“Is that right?” Bob looks around the room a second, before gulping down more of his wine that Johnny notices he’s almost already finished with.

Robbie refills Bob’s glass then does the same with his own, “Go grab him, Rick.” Robbie says to the bass player.

Rick Danko does just that, disappearing through the crowd with a glass of whiskey on ice in his hand.

When he returns he’s got another gentleman with him and Bob is instantly struck by the dark man’s bright style of clothing and the way he wears his hair. Big and confident afro not unlike Bob’s own. His brown eyes are wide and round, holding a kind of innocence Bob hasn’t seen in some time.

The man’s attention is quickly fixed on Bob, baby eyes alight with awe, “No way.” He laughs like he just can’t believe it.

“Jimi this is Bob. Bob, Jimi.” Rick motions between them and Bob wastes no time in holding out his hand.

“Hey man, how are you?” Bob greets and Jimi just chuckles disbelievingly. 

“Hey, uh, wow. It’s so great to meet you finally.” Jimi cups Bob’s hand with both of his and shakes fervently, “Wonderful show tonight man, the band is great.”

Bob smiles brightly at the compliment as his hand is let go, “Thanks man, I really appreciate that.”

“Of course, man.” It’s then that Jimi’s eyes find Johnny Cash and he blinks several times in confusion, “Johnny Cash?”

Johnny gives an acknowledging smile, though it doesn’t meet his eyes and he holds his hand out to shake the guitar player’s.

“Wow, I certainly chose the right week to come to New York. It’s my lucky day.” Jimi says in wonder and everyone laughs aside from Johnny, who finds the man’s reaction to meeting Bob a little odd.

Bob doesn’t seem to mind much at all. Jimi had enjoyed the show, and that’s something he has over Johnny already. In Bob’s eyes. 

Johnny’s fists clench at this realization. The little fucker is likely only sucking up to Bob to win his approval.

Johnny’s eyebrows raise as he observes Bob step toward Jimi and offer him a drink. Like the man can’t get his own drink? He needs assistance??

Johnny really can’t help it, he’s positively irritated by it all in a matter of seconds. Resentful. These are the exact reasons they should be alone right now. Too many distractions.

The guitar player nods and lets Bob lead him to the drink table. Johnny is left standing there struggling with feelings of jealousy that he hasn’t felt in quite some time. 

Bob pours Jimi some wine from the same bottle he’d opened earlier and afterward they seem to settle into a casual conversation right there by the table. Johnny gulps, trying to hold back the anger that’s threatening to show itself.

He observes Bob carefully, noticing how interested in Jimi he already seems, as the guitar player chats with him enthusiastically. Bob’s body language also speaks volumes. He’s facing Jimi fully, eyes never leaving the other man’s face as he listens to him.

Johnny shakes his head and looks away with loathing, unable to watch them any longer.

“Well they sure hit it off quick.” Rick says to Mickey and Robbie with an amused but pleased laugh.

Johnny hums a vaguely irritated sound, glancing back at the pair for a quick second. “What’s he gonna do, hire him for the band?” Johnny asks as a joke, but the others seem to find it hilarious, especially Rick.

“Jimi is an _entirely_ different style of music, have you ever heard him?” Rick asks Johnny.

“Well no, but if he’s really any good then he should be able to play any style, right?” Now Johnny’s clearly coming off as bitter and he wishes he could cool it, because Jimi had done nothing wrong. Johnny just doesn’t like the way Bob’s looking at him…It’s the same way he looks at Johnny when they’re alone. Never in front of others. Yet here Bob is...

“He’s played for several bands before, so I’m sure he’s fairly well-rounded,” Suddenly the bass player is waving his arm in the air, calling out to Jimi, and Johnny can already feel his stomach sinking.

“Hey Jimi, grab an acoustic, Johnny Cash wants to hear you play!”

Bob’s very distinctive laugh can be heard, and Johnny’s stomach turns even more with dread, 

“Well I don’t want to pressure him or anything—” Johnny tries.

“Jimi doesn’t play acoustic, Rick.” Bob calls back playfully, giggling some more, and to Johnny he sounds damn drunk already. Drunk with the praise that little fucker was giving him.

“Well that’s all we got!” Rick takes the acoustic that Robbie hands over to him.

Eventually the guys manage to convince Jimi to sit down on the couch, shoving the guitar into his hands. While everyone else gathers around him on the floor or pulls up chairs, Johnny quietly steps behind Bob and takes his hand, tugging him away before he can join the others to watch.

He takes Bob around the corner where no one can see them and presses Bob’s back against the wall. Bob hadn’t struggled, not wanting to make a scene, but once they’re hidden he demands to know what the hell is the deal.

“Johnny, what the fuck are you doing?” He whispers tightly, looking a little more than pissed that he’d been dragged away just as Jimi had started playing.

“When can we be alone?” Johnny can’t help that it comes out almost as a demand, fingers digging into Bob’s biceps.

Bob’s dazed blue eyes narrow and he blinks at Johnny in confusion. “You’re asking me this _right now?”_ he questions incredulously, pointing his thumb in the direction of the party. 

Johnny knows it was a bit much to just grab Bob and take him away from what’s basically his party, but everyone else is preoccupied so it seemed like the best time. “I just want to know how long all these people are expected to be here. We usually set aside time to be alone.”

Johnny snatches the cigarette from Bob’s pale fingers to take a much needed long drag.

Bob glares at him as he’s handed back his cigarette, “You kissed me earlier.” He just now remembers it, since it had happened at a time when his mind was frantic, nerves haywire, about to take the stage. 

Now that he thought about it, it had been a very odd thing for Johnny to do. Too casual, too intimate of a gesture despite its swiftness, and anyone could have seen it happen. Idiot. 

Johnny smiles slyly, lifting a hand up to press his thumb against Bob’s bottom lip, wishing he could kiss it now. “It’s because I missed you.”

Bob’s thoughts are conflicted. He told himself he was going to put the things they did behind him, move on, stop messing with someone who belonged to another. He didn’t like knowing that he was _that_ person. The fucking _mistress_ , mistress #2 nonetheless!

“We can’t do this anymore, Johnny.” Bob whispers sadly, pushing Johnny’s hand away from his face with a shake of his head. “I can’t live with myself if we continue…”

Johnny can feel his heart crumbling, dark eyes finding the hardwood flooring of the hotel room. “I understand, Bob."

Bob wills back the tears, nodding at the finality the moment creates, “I still want to be friends, Johnny.”

Johnny wants to curse at that. “What if I was completely single?” He tries.

Bob’s sharp blue eyes narrow and he paranoidly checks around them to make sure no one else is there. “What?” He practically hisses at the older man.

“If I broke it off with them both. Would you take me then?” Johnny clarifies, reaching to grab Bob’s free hand.

Bob jolts a bit at the contact, but his mind is still rolling over Johnny’s words. “Johnny, what’s gotten into you? You’re not thinking rationally.” Johnny can’t possibly be saying what Bob thinks he is...

“I’m thinking very rationally, Bob. _I want you_ , I want you to be mine and only mine. Always.” He says earnestly, squeezing Bob’s hand to emphasize his words.

Bob regards Johnny with doubt, doubt born from their rocky past together. With Johnny clearly stating that he could never be with Bob romantically. So what exactly is this bullshit all the sudden? 

“No. No you don’t, Johnny. Where is this all coming from?” He demands in confusion, caught off guard by the turn of events.

Johnny can feel himself getting worked up and he growls deeply in his throat, wondering how he could possibly get Bob to take him seriously. Though he supposes he deserved this mistrust. 

Bob speaks again though, before Johnny can respond.

“You’re just saying all of this so I’ll let you in my bed tonight. I’ve caught on to this act, Johnny. You’ll screw me and then go right back to your woman. _Women._ ” He shakes his head at the other man’s nerve, refusing to let him get what he wants this time around.

Johnny can’t even believe what he’s hearing, it’s so wrong, so far from the truth. “Bob no—You have no idea...”

Bob gives a laugh devoid of any humor and tugs his hand from Johnny’s. “You’ve got some nerve. Treating me like a damn fool—“

Johnny takes Bob’s cheeks in his palms, looking desperately into his eyes, “Bob it’s the _truth.”_

The younger singer is getting heated now, shoving Johnny’s hands away with a sharp curse.

“You really take me for some kinda idiot, don’t you?” Bob licks his lips as he finds Johnny’s eyes, holding them in a firm lock, “It’d be different if you were _honest_ and told me all you wanted was a fuck—”

“Bob, please listen to me—”

“No. You listen to _me._ ” He has to resist shouting so they don’t draw attention. “We’re not doing this here. Hell, we’re not doing this at all. I’m done. Finished.” 

And when Bob attempts to step aside, Johnny simply can’t let him go. He grabs Bob’s biceps and ducks down to capture the younger man’s lips in his own.

He presses Bob’s back to the wall, deepening the kiss. Relief washes over him when he feels Bob begin to kiss back hesitantly. Johnny sucks Bob’s bottom lip gently, hearing Bob moan ever so quietly.

“Where the hell did they go?”

An approaching voice suddenly cuts through the air. Johnny immediately straightens up and steps back from Bob who’s cursing and shoving Johnny even further from him.

It’s Rick and Mickey, and they’re both standing there with stunned stupid expressions on their features. Obviously, Bob and Johnny hadn’t broken apart in time, caught in the act.

Bob doesn’t address anyone, he’s far too embarrassed and in shock that they’d just been caught. He simply turns to head back to the main room where Jimi is still playing the guitar for everyone, leaving Johnny there to continue being gawked at by the other two.

Johnny licks his lips nervously and his head spins when he tastes Bob on them. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to clear his mind. Finally, he looks toward the younger two who’d walked in on them.

“Would you boys be able to keep that between you two?” He puts his hands on his hips and looks between them intently.

Mickey is the one to speak, while Rick just steps forward with an offered cigarette that Johnny takes gratefully.

“Sure man, sure.” Mickey nods vigorously, “We won’t say a thing.” He promises, and for the most part he sounds sincere, but Johnny is still worried.

He takes in a deep drag of his cigarette, nodding to himself, “Thank you.” then he’s stepping around them to head back into the living room.

Rick and Mickey look at each other once Johnny’s left and Rick’s mouth hangs open, still in complete shock. “Were they…?”

Mickey’s eyes are wide, perplexed as he shrugs his shoulders. “What else could it have been?”

Rick sighs heavily. ”Holy shit, man.”

Johnny doesn’t see Bob amongst the group of folks watching Jimi play, so he ventures further into the large hotel room. He eventually finds Bob in the dark of the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of wine between his fingers, the other hand holding a cigarette to his lips.

Johnny enters the kitchen silently, letting Bob notice him on his own. The 25-year-old only glances his way before his eyes are back on the floor. “You should go, Johnny.”

Johnny leans against the counter directly across from Bob and puffs on his own cigarette as he observes the smaller man’s body language. “Your friends said they would keep quiet about it, Bob.”

Bob shakes his head, not looking at the other. “I still think you should go. I’ll call you when everyone leaves so we can talk.”

Johnny clenches his teeth, finishing off his cigarette before stepping forward to toss it in the trash that’s beside Bob.

He turns toward the other man but not too close, and Bob has got his head turned away purposefully.

“Why do _I_ have to leave? Why can’t you send the others away?” He asks Bob in a near whisper and Bob grumbles almost inaudibly, taking a gulp from his wine glass.

“It’s my bands fucking party, and _they’re_ my main damn priority.” He hisses before shaking his head in aggravation. “I can’t believe you’d fucking kiss me with everyone here. What the fuck were you thinking?” He snaps at the older man who can’t help smiling as he remembers Bob kissing him back enthusiastically.

Johnny shrugs nonchalantly, and smirks down at Bob. “I was thinking I wanted to kiss you, so I did.”

Bob scoffs at that and pushes away from the counter, dumping the rest of his wine down the sink before setting the glass inside. He grips the edge of the sink and stares down into the stainless steel angrily. “I can’t believe you.” He mutters bitterly, “Just stay away from me until everyone leaves, okay?”

He’s about to exit the kitchen until Johnny speaks.

“Are you going to have sex with that _Jimi_ guy tonight?”

Bob tenses, glaring at Johnny over his shoulder. “So what if I do?”

Johnny presses his lips together in a tight line, looking into Bob’s eyes as hurt begins to fill him. But why does it hurt so much? Bob isn’t his. They never vowed to be only each other’s. Hell, Johnny certainly didn’t, he chose to commit to someone else. Who the hell is he to control Bob’s sex life? Yet he continues to plead with the young poet?

“Please don’t, Bob.”

Bob scoffs and turns back into the kitchen to face Johnny with narrowed eyes, “I’m not _yours_ , Johnny. We’re not together. You don’t see me telling you not to fuck June. I’m not your priority, so why the hell should I make you mine?” He whispers sharply.

Johnny doesn’t know what to say. The younger man is right. Johnny has no right to tell him what to do, he just can’t help himself getting possessive. He wants to be the only one who gets to touch Bob in those ways. The only one who gets to hear Bob’s precious moans and sweet gasps of pleasure as he’s taken from within.

But it’s truly not all that he wants...

“Why can’t we just enjoy what we have together, Bob?” Johnny asks desperately, and Bob has to look away, unable to handle the sadness in the others deep brown eyes.

“What we have isn’t enough—“ Bob begins but quickly turns when he feels someone behind him in the doorway of the kitchen.

It’s Bob Neuwirth, making his first appearance of the night, and he raises an eyebrow over his sunglasses when Bob faces him.

“Everything okay?” He says loud enough for just Bob to hear.

Bob nods and brings a hand up to pat Neuwirth’s shoulder reassuringly. “Fine man, just fine. We were only catching up.”

Johnny lets it go for the moment as they all three head back into the living room. Bob takes a seat next to Neuwirth on the carpet, leaving Johnny to find a spot for himself. He simply leans against the far wall after grabbing himself another shot of whiskey.

Jimi plays for another ten minutes, and once he finishes everyone cheers and applauds. He thanks them before calling Bob’s name and holding out the guitar.

Johnny’s attention sharpens as everyone encourages Bob to play a song. The 25-year-old takes the guitar with obvious reluctance and asks everyone which song they’d like to hear.

“Baby Blue! Baby Blue!” Someone with an English accent shouts and Bob purses his lips in thought as he thinks about that one.

He takes a seat on the couch, gives the guitar an experimental strum and frowns when he finds it out of tune. Jimi, who is sat on the carpet near Bob’s legs, curses and reaches his fingers up to help Bob tune it.

“Sorry man, I fucked it all up.” The darker man apologizes as his skilled fingers fumble along the guitar.

Johnny observes the two, their close proximity. How Bob is smiling down at Jimi fondly as his new friend hurries to fix the strings for him.

“You know ‘It’s All Over Now Baby Blue’?” Bob asks, surprised Jimi knows how to tune the guitar for the song.

Jimi nods and smiles up at Bob as he finishes the last string. “I’ve _lived_ that song before.”

Bob’s eyebrows raise, impressed with the other and he leans down to Jimi’s ear to whisper something. “When everyone else leaves, could you stay?” He pulls back to look at Jimi, only to find the baby-eyes wide and his jaw slack with disbelief.

But Jimi quickly recovers, gulping nervously before nodding, “Y-yeah, of course.”

Johnny can feel the jealousy boiling low in his gut as he watches them, dying to know what Bob had whispered.

Johnny can barely pay attention to Bob as he sings, he’s not tuned in like everyone else. His only concern is Bob and what his intentions are with this new guy who’d just become Johnny’s biggest competition.

His eyes follow Bob’s soft lips as they form the words of his song, and his bright blue eyes as they look around at the people in the room. It takes maybe half of the song, but eventually Bob’s eyes find Johnny’s and the country singer’s heartbeat jumps.

_“The lover who just walked out your door, has taken all his blankets from the floor…”_

Johnny gulps down the lump in his throat and that’s when Bob breaks the eye-contact. Johnny doesn’t know what to think of that...Did Bob look at him during that line on purpose? What was he trying to tell Johnny?

Johnny groans low in his throat and moves to the drink table to pour himself a glass of about two shots. He takes it all, keeping an eye on Bob in the corner of his eye as he does so.

The song ends and everyone claps for Bob, some tell him to play another one but he makes a face and shakes his head. He holds the guitar out to the crowd, “Someone else have anything?”

A brunette female takes the guitar and Bob stands from the couch with a sigh of relief. He taps Jimi’s shoulder and the guitar player follows him to the drink table.

Johnny isn’t far from them where he leans against the wall and tries to listen hard, so he can hear what they’re saying. Bob is pouring both he and Jimi more wine, with Jimi leaned in too close to him for Johnny’s liking.

“That was fantastic, Bob. I could never dream of being able to write words like that.”

Bob grins widely as he hands Jimi one of the wine glasses, “I’m sure you do just fine, man. Do you write songs? Or just music?”

“I’ve written songs, yeah. I’m not sure if they’re any good but I dig them.” He shrugs modestly.

Bob just nods, taking a drink of his wine and finally noticing Johnny against the wall. Jimi follows Bob’s eyes and his face brightens with awe in an instant. Unlike Bob who just looks away and drinks more wine, uninterested.

“Johnny, how are you doing, man? You look ready to call it a day.” Jimi says lightheartedly, moving to lean against the wall next to the older man.

Johnny is smoking a cigarette, and his brown eyes are heavy with intoxication as he gazes at Bob and Bob only. “I wouldn’t mind finding a bed right now.” He agrees suggestively and watches as Bob rolls his eyes with a hand on his hip, before he’s suddenly snatching the cigarette from Johnny’s fingers and taking a drag himself.

“Maybe Bob will let you crash on his.” Jimi nods his head to Bob who only scoffs at that.

“I’ve got my own room,” Johnny mumbles, taking the cigarette that Jimi offers him to replace the one Bob stole, “Got pot too if ya’ll wanna come and join me.”

Bob’s eyes light up at this and he finally looks at his toward ex-lover, “You don’t have any on you?”

Johnny can’t help smirking, because Bob is so easily swayed, so easy to please. He really, _really_ shouldn’t have invited them. 

“I’ve got two rolled joints back in my room.”

Bob curses with excitement and they all agree to head to Johnny’s hotel room. No one seems to notice them leave, and Johnny leads them down the hallway to his much emptier, quieter room.

They close the door to the bedroom and Bob flops down across Johnny’s bed. He pulls out the few incense sticks he’d grabbed from his own room as Jimi joins him on the bed.

“Open the window, John.” Bob says as he lights one of them, propping it against the ashtray on the nightstand.

Johnny hands Bob a joint before going over to open the window. Bob lights the joint but lets Jimi have the first hit, smiling at him brightly, “To new friends.” He says.

“Aw thanks, Bob. And thanks to you, Johnny.” Jimi nods his head to Johnny who tips his head in acknowledgment.

Bob motions Johnny to move to the bed and Johnny narrows his eyes with uncertainty but comes anyway. He keeps his distance, sitting only close enough to be passed the joint.

“Good taste.” Jimi comments as he hands the joint to Johnny.

Bob turns on the radio and they pass both joints around until they’re gone. The three men are all lying across the bed comfortably, talking about music and the public's biased response to Bob going electric.

“Music is evolving, y’know? Electric is what’s exciting the kids now, and the musicians are excited about it too. The kids who don’t like it just can’t understand that it’s going to be better than anything they’ve ever heard before, man.” Jimi expresses, and Bob is agreeing with him enthusiastically, adding that he’s been so much happier since he went electric.

Even though he’s high and damn close to drunk, Johnny is highly aware of how close Jimi and Bob’s faces are. Their heads leaned back on the headboard, Bob’s face is turned toward Jimi’s with the utmost interest, sharp blue eyes looking all over Jimi’s face like a boy admiring his first high school crush.

He’s smitten, and Johnny‘s jealousy is palpable. Bob’s not even doing it just to make Johnny mad, he’s genuinely interested in Jimi and Johnny can’t help feeling hurt over it.

What would Johnny do if they were to kiss right here in front of him? He feels himself getting heated simply from the thought.

“Your real fans will stay by your side, and will enjoy anything you come out with, as long as your lyrics stay just as beautiful.” Jimi tells Bob who is silent as he takes in Jimi’s words, desperate to believe them.

“Yeah man, that’s what I hope too.” He says softly, more to himself than the others.

Johnny just lies there, eyes moving between the two young men without a word of input in the conversation.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Jimi?” Bob suddenly asks, capturing Johnny’s attention while Jimi only scoffs.

“Women have been nothing but trouble for me, thus far.” He answers with a shake of his head. “Trying to tie me down when all I want is to be free to travel the world and make my music.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Bob grins widely, nodding toward Johnny who should know exactly what Jimi is talking about.

Johnny finally speaks up. “Don’t ever get married, boys.”

Bob lets out a quiet, deceiving laugh at that, “Just in case we fall in love with someone else?” He says pointedly, eyes burning into Johnny’s face, daring the older man to meet them.

Johnny kind of shrugs and shakes his head when a cigarette is offered to him. “Just an inconvenience that’s all.”

Both Jimi and Bob snicker at this and Bob ends up with his head resting on Jimi’s shoulder. “Tell me about it.” Bob mutters wistfully.

Jimi’s eyebrows knit together at this and he looks down at Bob’s pale face. “You’re married?”

Bob scoffs, “Fuck no, man.”

“So what was with the ‘tell me about it’?”

Bob has to laugh at this, and he turns his head to look at Johnny who doesn’t hesitate to meet his eyes this time. Johnny readies himself for whatever shocking words Bob will speak this time.

“I’m sleeping with someone who is.” Bob winks at Johnny with a stoned-up grin plastered to his face.

“Shit.” Jimi exclaims in wonder, before lighting up a fresh cigarette and taking a deep drag as he stares towards the ceiling, missing as the other two exchange telling looks.

Johnny motions for Bob to cut it out, to stop saying so much. Bob rolls his eyes, knowing Jimi wouldn’t be able to catch on with only that information.

“You don’t feel guilty?” Jimi speaks again.

At this, both Johnny and Bob turn their attention to the guitar player who’s waiting patiently for an answer.

 _‘He’s got no idea.’_ Johnny thinks as he lights up his own cigarette, darting his eyes to Bob, equally as curious of what his answer will be.

Bob purses his thin yet somehow plush lips as he thinks over the question carefully. “Guilty about what exactly?” He says quietly to the other, like it’s only he and Jimi in the room.

Johnny had heard though, and he’s watching the two intently.

Jimi moves his hands aimlessly around in the air, struggling to find his own words. “You know...that you’re... _Ahem...with someone’s wife?”_

Bob’s grin widens, and his eyes switch to Johnny for a split second before he’s leaning back toward his new friend, “Who said anything about a woman?”

 _“Bob.”_ Johnny warns, but he’s too worried about Bob saying anything to realize he could give it away himself, simply from expressing too much distain.

This seems to be the exact result, as Jimi’s narrowed eyes shoot to Johnny curiously, before he’s looking back at Bob.

“Wait...” Jimi murmurs with realization, eyes moving between the two music stars, observing what their eyes are doing. They say enough.

Bob can feel the corners of his lips pulling up though he tries to fight it, and Johnny’s hands are balled into fists.

He’s ready to get up and leave the room. He’s furious with Bob, until he realizes it wouldn’t only be Jimi who knows about them.

And after all, it’s Johnny’s fault they’d gotten caught making out earlier.

His fingers loosen up and he exhales audibly.

“You don’t know when to shut up, do you Bob?” He shakes his head but can’t help the smile creeping up on his lips as Bob beams at him almost proudly.

“Groovy.” Jimi says with a shrug when his suspicions have been confirmed. “I honestly never would have guessed.”

“Well we’re not gay--“ Johnny starts and is swiftly interrupted by his secret lover.

“He just can’t keep his hands off me, that’s all.”

“God _damn_ , Bob!” Johnny scolds in embarrassment which only amuses Bob even further. He has at this point, buried his face into the pillows as he shakes with laughter.

Jimi is momentarily frozen with shock and almost thinks he should leave, feeling like a third wheel suddenly. Maybe these two want to...Be alone?

“I’m sorry guys, should I go...?”

Johnny and Jimi are both shocked when Bob grabs his arm and shouts, “No! You can stay, I like the company.” His voice lowers toward the end and he lets his hands slip from Jimi’s bicep. “I should go get the guitar from my room and have you play more songs for us.”

Jimi doesn’t look keen about that idea as he makes a face and sits up straighter on the bed, “You’re sure I shouldn’t go? I feel like you guys might have some stuff to talk about...”

Johnny wants to scream that yes, they do have _‘things’_ to talk about and yes, you should go. But he keeps quiet because Jimi is Bob’s guest after all, and Johnny doesn’t mind the kid much anymore. Since he doesn’t seem to be trying to get in Bob’s pants.

Maybe it’d be better if Jimi stayed, so that nothing could happen between Bob and Johnny tonight. It’d be a good reason to keep their hands off each other.

By this point, Johnny has moved over to the chair in the corner of the room, too anxious to be so close to Bob right now. How many people are going to know about their relationship by the end of the night??

Bob snorts and rolls his eyes. “Well, Johnny is going to jump my bones as soon as you go. But hell, stay and watch if you want.” He’s suddenly sliding off the bed and sauntering in Johnny’s direction.

So much for moving to the chair to get away from him.

Johnny’s throat goes dry and his eyes find Bob’s, unable to get a word in before Bob is sat in his lap sideways. The younger man smiles down at Johnny and drapes an arm around his neck. “I’m sorry about earlier, I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.” His eyes are on Johnny’s lips, wanting badly to kiss him. 

Does Bob even know what he’s doing right now? What happened to all that anger from before? 

Despite his doubts, Johnny hesitantly brings his arm up to wrap around Bob’s barely-there waist.

This is exactly what happens every time they meet; Bob is high, Bob is tipsy, so Bob comes closer. And Johnny couldn’t stop the younger man even if he wanted to.

Johnny glances toward Jimi unsure about being watched. He finds the other stock-still on the bed, looking out of place and prepared to bolt. “Yeah, what’s with the mood change, baby? I want you to be honest.” He whispers carefully, and Bob just shrugs, beginning to jog his leg like he does when he’s anxious.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you...” Bob begins, looking toward Jimi and waiting for the guitar player to find his eyes so he can give him a smile that he hopes will ease the younger man’s apparent discomfort.

Jimi only looks confused but forces a smile despite it. 

“I do find him attractive and I thought...” Bob continues as he looks to the ground with uncertainty. He bites his bottom lip and can feel Johnny’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his face. “Oh, never mind, that’s a terrible idea. What am I thinking.”

Johnny catches on quick though and he thinks about it a moment, “You want him to watch us? Or what? Join?” Johnny asks in a hushed voice and Bob can’t hide the bashful smile and blush that rises to his cheeks.

“He doesn’t seem interested anyway.” Bob replies with a sad smile and Johnny scoffs at that.

“Definitely not in me, but in _you?_ He did. Up until he found out about us.” Johnny replies, reaching up to touch Bob’s sandy brown curls fondly.

“He did?” Bob looks toward Jimi with a bright smile he’s unable to contain.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Johnny says suggestively, as he slides a comfortable hand to Bob’s bottom and gives it an encouraging squeeze.

Bob gasps in shock at his lover’s words and bold actions, “You really think I should?”

Johnny shrugs, attempting to appear indifferent. Though he honestly doesn’t like the idea of anyone else touching Bob, he’d feel bad if he’d stopped Bob from having new experiences. After all, Bob isn’t his.

“Go for it.” Johnny pats Bob’s bottom before he’s carefully removing the smaller man from his lap. Bob looks down at Johnny with questioning eyes, unsure what exactly he should do.

Johnny gives him a reassuring smile and nods his head in Jimi’s direction, “Don’t keep him waiting.”

Bob bites his bottom lip as he looks toward Jimi who’s still sat against the headboard of the king-sized bed.

“Hey, Jimi.” Bob says but doesn’t move from where he’s standing in front of Johnny. He finds Jimi’s large brown eyes and holds the eye contact with determination.

“Um...Yes, Bob?” Jimi’s voice is low, timid, and Johnny knows exactly how the newcomer feels. He’d experienced similar reactions the night he’d first met Bob too. The man may be scrawny, while standing at only 5’7, but his personality, presence and voice are usually the loudest in the room.

“You wanna make out?”

Jimi chokes on air and Bob looks toward the eldest in the room with a smug grin.

“The greatest songwriter of our time has such a way with words, doesn’t he?” Johnny smirks back at the poet who tosses his head back in laughter as he approaches Jimi on the bed.

The newcomer hasn’t bolted yet, even after everything that’s been said, so obviously something is convincing him to stay here in the room with them. Maybe he really is interested in Bob like Johnny had said.

Bob sits on the beds edge and places a hand over one of Jimi’s, looking him in the eyes with a softer approach. “I think you’re a pretty cool cat, and before you get any ideas—no I don’t do this every day.”

“Yet.” Johnny says from across the room.

Bob breaks out into a grin at that but tries to remain focused on the task at hand. Jimi looks nervous still, and Bob wants to fix that.

“Johnny was my first and only, thus far, but—“

“Like you said earlier; it’s your lucky day.” Johnny calls to Jimi who only gulps while his eyes are trained on a thoroughly captivating Bob.

Bob is about to shout at Johnny to shut up already, but Jimi surprises them both when he cuts in with, “How about…You guys do it…?” He suggests quietly, which results in both men snapping their eyes toward him in disbelief.

“Us?” Bob’s eyebrows pull in and he licks over his lips in thought, “You want to see us...first and then...?”

Jimi shrugs at this, “If you guys are comfortable with...that.”

Johnny’s throat has gone dry, and he really does love this Jimi kid already. So nice of him to let Johnny do the honors. Then again, the kid could be too nervous and only needed an out. Either way, Johnny can’t wait to get his hands on Bob finally. His fingers are already twitching, itching to caress Bob’s skin. It’s been far too long, nearly a year!

But Bob, he’s sitting there on the bed pouting like he does, wishing he could make out with Jimi still. Johnny almost grumbles at this, but he understands. Bob is just excited, he’s never been with a man other than Johnny before and he’s eager to explore.

“I think it’s you he wants, kid. Let him at least get a taste first.” Johnny motions with both hands for them to meet in the middle already.

Jimi’s round eyes grow impossibly wider as he focuses his attention on Bob, who seems lost at what to do now. “You really...You want me?”

They lock eyes and Bob smiles sheepishly at the other. “You finally caught on? Asking you to make out wasn’t enough?” They both laugh awkwardly at that, as Bob lifts a hand to Jimi’s cheek, scooting closer, “I’d like to have a little fun with you _both_ , if that’s groovy with you?”

Jimi nods vigorously while slowly resting a hand on Bob’s waist, getting a feel of his slight form. 

“How old are you, Jimi?” Bob whispers, eyes on the other man’s lips.

“23, I’ll be 24 in November.” Jimi also finds himself tempted to kiss the petite man in his arms. “You?”

“42.” Bob says with a straight face and Jimi’s eyes narrow, taken aback.

Johnny snorts from the chair across the room, while Bob can’t hold back his laughter any longer than that. “Johnny boy over there is a grown man, so we’re in good hands.” He says teasingly, making Jimi forget about his nerves long enough to actually laugh.

“He’s 25, _going on_ 42.” Johnny answers for Bob, who’s practically sitting in Jimi’s lap by now.

 _‘This is so surreal’_ , Jimi thinks. He’s got his hands on Bob Dylan, they’re going to make out. Jimi takes a deep breath as he eyes Bob’s mouth, “God, I really did get lucky, holy shit.” He whispers, cheeks growing hot when the two others chuckle at his words.

Bob takes Jimi’s chin in his fingers and leans over him, “Enough chatter.”

Jimi gulps nervously and stays completely still as Bob leans in closer and closer, throwing a slim thigh over his lap. When their lips finally meet Jimi’s body melts, and he sighs into the kiss, fingertips digging into Bob’s waist. The blue-eyed man’s lips are so plush against his, and all Jimi tastes is pot and cigarettes with a bitter hint of red wine.

Bob turns his head to deepen the kiss, flicking his tongue out against Jimi’s lips in a silent request. He moans deeply, arching his back when Jimi’s mouth opens against his. Bob’s fists curl around the blankets beside Jimi’s head as the guitarist sneaks hands up inside the back of his polka-dot button-up.

Johnny mutters a quiet curse from where he’s still sat in the chair across the room. That elegant curve in Bob’s back that he’d been the cause of several times before. His jealousy gradually turns into arousal as he watches Bob come undone under Jimi’s multi-talented fingers. 

Jimi goes from timid to enthusiastic in a matter of seconds. He presses opened-mouthed kisses across Bob’s neck and collarbone, while unbuttoning Bob’s shirt. Johnny can hear Bob’s soft, fleeting sounds from across the room and he can’t deny that it’s turning him on.

Jimi pushes Bob’s shirt away from pale skin and drops it to the floor, wasting no time in leaning up to take a tiny nipple between his lips. Bob seems surprised at this, hissing and grabbing the back of Jimi’s head encouragingly.

“Holy...” Johnny is just as taken aback. It never went this quickly for he and Bob. They’d spend their whole night’s chatting and talking about old times before they finally indulged in each other. Jimi on the other hand is going right for it, and Bob seems very appreciative of this.

Jimi wraps an arm around Bob’s waist, holds tight, and effectively flips them over so he’s above Bob. “Fuck.” Bob giggles excitedly at this, but doesn’t have time to say anything else as Jimi is diving down to capture his lips once again.

Jimi’s fingers start unbuckling Bob’s pants and that’s when Johnny can’t help cutting in. “Woah, woah.” He stands up from the chair and walks toward the bed.

Bob’s got and arm thrown over his eyes, panting heavily, impatiently. Jimi sits up to look toward Johnny skeptically, almost like he’d forgotten the older man was there.

“How far are y'all gonna go?” Johnny reaches forward, stroking one of Bob’s exposed ankles. “I said ‘a taste’.”

Bob drops his arm from his face and glares up at Johnny hard, “You really had to interrupt? You couldn’t just sit back and enjoy the show?”

Jimi sits back between Bob’s spread legs and bites his lip, looking from the two of them uneasily.

Johnny pouts and continues stroking Bob’s ankle. “I’ve been waiting all night.”

Bob grumbles and reaches for Johnny’s hand, urging him onto the bed. “You’re always so impatient. Can’t let anyone else have a turn.” It’s spoken with little to no bite and only causes Johnny to smile down at the other.

“Not used to sharing.” He swoops down to steal a kiss from Bob who hums an agreement against his lips. 

Jimi watches them kiss, noticing how comfortable they are with each other, how natural it seems for them. “I’m really curious how your relationship started.” He doesn’t mean to blurt it out like that but it’s too late anyway.

Johnny breaks their kiss and hums at Jimi’s question before kissing Bob’s cheek in adoration. “We were staying in the same hotel, Bob had seen my concert that night.” He kisses Bob’s cheek once more as the other lies there with his eyes closed peacefully, listening to Johnny speak to Jimi, “We’d sent letters to each other before that, and talked over the phone, but never met in person until that night.”

Jimi nods at that, reaching a hand forward to touch Bob’s soft curls idly. “How’d the letters start?”

Johnny smiles brightly at this as he remembers when he’d first wrote Bob. “I wrote him first, because I’d enjoy his second album so much. He wrote back saying he’d let me do one of the songs from it.”

“I’d love to record one of his songs too, must be great.” Jimi replies interestedly, but Bob, who lies impatiently on his back, expresses his current predicament by shoving his hips in the air to show how hard he’s grown beneath his pants. It quickly steals the two other men’s attention, Johnny even laughs.

“As much as I love this conversation, I’d love it more if you two finished undressing me, I’m hard as fuck. Johnny could you dim the lights?” 

Johnny snickers at Bob, and stands to turn the lamp down to the dimmest setting. Jimi has already begun fumbling with Bob’s button and zipper, before he’s tugging them down and off of the slim man.

Bob sighs in pleasure as the cool air hits his legs. Jimi sits back to admire Bob lying there in just his boxers, legs dangling open obscenely. Johnny however, finishes the job by grabbing Bob’s hips and doing away with the last item of clothing. 

Bob’s got his arms behind his head, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he moves his crystal blues eyes from one man to the other. “Now’s the part where Johnny tells me I’ve lost more weight.”

Jimi’s eyebrows raise at this and Johnny just sighs as he strokes Bob’s boney thigh lovingly. “Were you okay after the last time?”

Bob nods and lifts his leg to wrap it about Johnny’s waist and bring him closer. “More than okay.” He whispers to the other lovingly.

Jimi has been with other men, but as he looks over Bob’s frame, it’s just that he’s never been with a man so tiny. “You have troubles eating, Bob?”

Fuck. Johnny wishes he’d have warned Jimi not to say anything but it’s already too late.

Bob’s eyes narrow at the youngest in the room. “Too skinny for you now am I?”

Johnny shakes his head reassuringly as Jimi stumbles over his words, “No, no, of...of course not, Bob! I think you look beautiful, I’ve just never…” His eyes roam over Bob’s slight frame again and he gulps. “You know who Twiggy is? The model?”

Bob’s teeth clench and Johnny knows his lover is about to blow, “I get the fucking point. If you don’t think I’m attractive then get the fuck out!” 

Jimi winces and for help looks to Johnny who’s got his face in his hands. “I-I didn’t mean anything by it...She’s a very beautiful model, Bob—“

“Yeah very fucking skinny too! If it’s such a turn off then leave!” Bob isn’t even on the bed anymore, he’s reaching at the ground for his boxers and pulling them on in a hurry. “I’m sure there are some girls back there at the party with beautiful bodies, who you’d much rather sleep with, so go!”

Johnny is stunned into silence as he watches Bob redress quicker than he’s ever seen another person dress before. 

Jimi is actually standing to leave, but Johnny grabs his wrist and whispers to him that they need to cool Bob down.

“I feel terrible, I didn’t know—“ Jimi whispers back.

“I made the same mistake before, he’ll be okay, hold on.”

Johnny moves to stand in front of Bob who’s shaking his head as he fumbles with his shirts buttons, avoiding the taller man’s eyes. “No man, no. He thinks I’m ugly, thinks my body is ugly. I don’t need this shit.”

“No one called you ugly, Bob. He just wasn’t expecting you to be as thin as you are.” He takes one of Bob’s hands and uses the other to wrap around Bob’s waist, pulling his body closer, “You’re beautiful,” He whispers earnestly, saying it once more when Bob only shakes his head. “He likes you, Bob. He really does, I can tell.” 

Bob scoffs at that but has calmed down visibly as Johnny holds him close. “I know I need to gain weight, okay? I know it already.” He says and Johnny nods in understanding.

“You will, Bob. I want you to be healthy, and I know Jimi only wants the same.” He looks from Bob to Jimi who’s standing by the door now, too overwhelmed and ready to go.

Bob hums and also looks over at Jimi, “He’s got a big dick, I could feel it against me earlier.”

Johnny’s chokes on his breath and Jimi can’t believe what he’s heard. 

“Uhh, yeah?” Johnny pretends to engage Bob while he shoots Jimi a hopeful look.

Suddenly Bob is calling Jimi’s name and the youngest man lifts his head. “Yes, Bob?”

“We can finish if you promise to shut the fuck up.”

Jimi gulps and contemplates the idea, but really, he feels awful about what he’d said and wants to leave. “No, I should get going, man. Thanks for having me though.”

Johnny is sad to hear this, a big improvement from his feelings toward Jimi an hour ago. But Bob only shrugs, lifting his arms to wrap them around Johnny’s shoulders. “Your loss.” He goes on his toes to kiss Johnny deeply.

Jimi nods as he twists the doorknob. “It was nice meeting you guys.”

“No, no, no.” Johnny tips his head away from Bob’s eager lips so that he can speak. Bob and Jimi both look toward Johnny, but both express polar opposite emotions. “Bob you can’t just dismiss him like that, you know he didn’t mean any harm. I’ve said similar things without thinking and you forgave me just fine.” 

Bob’s flippant expression melts into a pout and he turns his face to the wall, “I don’t know him like I do you.”

Jimi seems to give up again, forlorn, and continues turning the knob.

“Jimi, come back here. Bob, don’t be so hard on people. You guys got along so well and you’re going to throw it all away because he stated the obvious?” Johnny motions to Bob’s boney legs that he loves so much to have wrapped around him.

“Oh fuck you, Johnny.” Bob’s arms are crossed at this point, blue eyes on the wall.

Jimi drops his hand from the knob but doesn’t move from the door. “I’m sorry, Bob. I really do think you’re beautiful.”

Bob rolls his eyes while Johnny grins like a child who’s watching his parents makeup after an argument.

“He’s _really_ beautiful when he’s on his back screaming your name.” Johnny pokes Bob’s stomach and receives a deadly glare from the poet while Jimi stifles his laughter.

“I’m gonna strangle you in a minute if you don’t shut up.” Bob points his finger at Johnny who only grabs the hand and kisses it softly. Bob groans and flops back onto Johnny’s bed, arms crossed.

“Jimi, come back.” Johnny says again, “Bob _does_ want you to stay, he’s just too chicken to say it, isn’t that right, Bob?”

“He’s got a big dick.” Bob murmurs and Johnny curses in disbelief.

Jimi hesitates by the door, wanting Bob to welcome him back on his own. That’s the only way he’ll believe it. “Bob?”

Bob rests his head back against the pillows and sighs heavily as he stares at the ceiling. “You can stay—“

“You _want_ him to stay.” Johnny corrects Bob almost instantly, resulting in more stubborn groaning from the poet.

“I want you to stay...and watch Johnny suck my dick.” Bob has already begun to remove his pants again, not bothering to observe the other men’s expressions at the blunt statement. He was tired of all the goddamned chatter long ago. If they don’t get started soon he’s just going to jerk himself off in the shower. Jimi can stay, or he can go, Bob could care less at this point.

Jimi hasn’t moved from his spot by the door as he and Johnny exchange looks that both read. _‘Did I hear that correctly?’_

It ends any further hesitation from Johnny though. To hell with Jimi. 

Johnny’s already back on the bed, helping Bob remove his boxers and spreading those slim legs to make himself at home between them. Grateful, Bob lies back and closes his eyes gently, as Johnny caresses all across his thighs, smoothing calloused fingers higher and higher as his lips follow close behind. 

“Fuck—“ Bob hisses in anticipation as Johnny’s fingers and mouth draw closer and closer to the end of his shirt, where his erection hides underneath. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want, baby?” Johnny takes the shirt in his fingers to push it up Bob’s stomach and out of the way. It’s been so long, so he’s in the mood to get Bob worked up, make him lose his mind, rather than dive right in and end this in a matter of minutes.

Jimi meanwhile, is gulping down saliva every other second as his mouth waters, jealous as all hell of where Johnny’s lips have kissed Bob’s milky skin. He begins stepping forward toward the bed once again. To get closer, to get a closer look.

“Yeah I’m fuckin’ sure,” Bob’s voice is strained with impatience as he lifts his hips into the air, only to have Johnny press him back down with a hearty chuckle. Bob curses at the 34-year-old country singer and latches his fingers into dark brown strands, “Don’t you tease me. I know what you’re up to.” He scolds in a heated whisper, but it only makes Johnny laugh, unbothered by the lengthy fingernails digging roughly into his scalp.

“Be patient, honey. I want to take my time with you tonight—“

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare take your time.” He growls, “Jimi, get over here, show this old man how the young people do it.” He lets Johnny’s hair go, and turns his eyes toward Jimi who’s standing right beside the bed now, gulping down his nerves as he taps his fingers against the bedding.

Johnny relaxes on one elbow between Bob’s legs, trailing his fingertips up and down Bob’s slim thigh, “Last time I sucked you, you came in less than 5 minutes, Bobby.”

“You asshole--” Bob murmurs with embarrassment.

“Maybe that’s a good thing though,” Jimi pipes in as he gazes down at the others, eyes alight with interest.

Johnny snorts at Jimi’s words, amused, while Bob glares at the older man who’s putting him through one of the worst cases of blue balls he’s had yet. 

“No really. Just let him come, then he’ll last longer after that.” Jimi brings up a knee onto the mattress, still hesitating to get on the large king-sized bed. He’s wondering when his brain will hurry up and wake him up from this bizarre, too-good-to-be-true dream.

“Yeah _Johnny_ , don’t you know anything about _anything_?” Bob teases which earns him an eyeroll from the eldest of the three musicians. 

“You were my first man too, you know. Also, why don’t _you_ give me a blow job for once, hm?” He pinches Bob’s thigh and Bob gasps at the sharp pain of it, snatching his thigh out of Johnny’s reach.

“Asshole. And anyway, I don’t know how to do that...”

“Excuses, excuses. Jimi and I’ll teach you. You’ve done it before haven’t you, Jimi?” Johnny motions Jimi to come closer. “You want to do the honors or me?”

Jimi shrugs and rubs at his arm nervously, still feeling out of place, “He’s your lover, I think you should be his first.”

But Bob’s already decided what it is he wants. “Jimi, pull your dick out. It might be _too_ fucking big.” He demands, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, even sitting up onto his knees in front of where Jimi stands by the bed.

“Oh--okay.” Jimi fumbles with his belt buckle, shocked when Bob quickly gets impatient and takes over with the task himself. 

Bob gets the buckle undone, bottom lip between his teeth, and tugs the button out of the socket. He presses his hand up against the bulge curiously and his mouth falls open in, laughing in amazement, “Holy fuckin’ shit, Jimi.” He shakes his head as he pulls the zipper down, slowly, teasingly.

Johnny’s still leaned on his elbow, watching them quietly, kind of curious himself.

“If it is then...don’t worry about it, man, okay? I’ve been told I’m too big before.” The guitarist shrugs timidly and Bob looks up at him, mouth agape.

“Really?” He gazes down at the bulge again, licking over his lips, eyes frantic with the mystery of it all.

Jimi and Johnny both eye the swift flick of Bob’s tongue with matching expressions of lust.

“Yeah, man.” Jimi scratches his cheek, meeting Bob’s heavy-lidded blue eyes with a soft smile. The singer looks so innocent, and in a way; he is. He’s new to this and seems almost excited to try it out, not intimidated at all by the idea of Jimi being too big. He’s already expressed that he prefers it that way, which is strange seeing as he’s only been with one man. Maybe the folk-rock singer has some strange kinks he’s been keeping to himself...

-

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy, cliffhanger! JK I just had to cut it short because it was getting too long...  
> Part 3 coming soon!


End file.
